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Posts Tagged ‘motherhood’

The kids were being a little rowdy at bed time yesterday so I ordered them out of the room to stand on the staircase landing to contemplate their rowdiness.

I then heard the following conversation through the door:

Peanut: We must have a discussion about this! Mummy asked us to come out and discuss this!
Lion: Discuss what?
Peanut: Why we were noisy. So can you tell me why did you tickle me?
Lion: Because you disturb me first.
Peanut: But you didn’t have to tickle me right?
Lion: But you disturb me first.
Peanut: But why did you tickle me?
Lion: …I don’t know…
Peanut: You must tell me the answer! Why did you tickle me?
Lion: …I really don’t know…This discussion is going on for so long time. I just want to go back and tell Mummy that I want to go to sleep.
Peanut: No! Cannot! We must have this discussion. So that we can find the solution!
Lion: I don’t want to discuss! I want to sleep.
Peanut: So why did you tickle me? Answer me first!
Lion: I don’t know. I don’t do it anymore, okay? The discussion is over.

The door opens. The kids return (with a cat trailing in behind them) and crawl back into their beds while the cat curled up at the space beneath Lion’s feet. Soon enough, they fell asleep with no further trouble.

I did everything that I could not to burst out laughing.

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in stitches

pain scale

pain scale


One Thursday night, I came out from the shower just an hour after I have left my kids at my parents’ for the night to find a couple of missed calls from my parents on my phone.

When I called back, my mother told me that Lion and Peanut were alone in the bed room waiting for her to read a bedtime story when Lion fell and cut his forehead at the edge of the wardrobe. The cut looked deep and my father had staunched it and took Lion into A&E.

Panicked, I called The Other Half who was out on a run. He doubled home and we headed to the hospital to meet up with my father.

When I arrived at the A&E, there was Lion, still in his pajama-bottom, sitting next to my father with a ginormous bandage on his forehead. He was tired and subdued, staring at the TV screen showing Cartoon Network in the waiting area. I sat down next to him and he crawled onto my lap, looking miserable.

terrorising vending machines

terrorising vending machines

I asked Lion what happened and he told me that he was playing with Peanut when he hit his head on the cupboard. The doctor told us that as it was a blunt cut, he would need to be stitched by a plastic surgeon to minimize scarring. This can only be done in the morning so Lion would have to be admitted into hospital for the night. So my father went home and we filled up the forms for Lion to be warded.

stoned face being wheeled into ward

stoned face being wheeled into ward

Close to midnight, we finally got Lion into bed. The Other Half stayed with Lion and I went home to feed the cats and get some clothes packed for Lion and The Other Half. Needless to say, I hardly got any sleep that night and returned to the hospital at 6am, just in time to assist the nurses in sedating Lion for the surgery.

after surgery

after surgery

After the surgery, Lion had to be observed for 4 hours before I could take him home. Those were possibly the longest 4 hours of my life. The Other Half had to leave for work while my work was being attended to by my associates [Thank God for Champagne Truffle and Catholic Girl!]. He refused to lie down on the bed or take a nap [“I wanna go home!”]. He complained that the hospital smelt bad [of antiseptic]. He refused to have his temperature and blood pressure taken [“I already did this just now! No more!!”]. He insisted that he wanted to go home [“When can I go home? I wanna go home now!!!”]. He spent the duration seated on my lap or lying on the floor while I tried to stay awake and entertained him with silly songs, rocked him on my lap, used various distraction techniques including and not limited to trying to teach him how to play Plants s. Zombies on my phone until my battery ran out. Then luckily a couple of trainee paediatricians showed up with a box of toys to do some tests on him [“Do you have a Lego set?”] so I got a little bit of a reprieve. When they were done, he ate everything on his lunch plate and declared that he was done being in hospital. Luckily for both of us, the doctor agreed with him and we were allowed to leave.

He promptly fell dead asleep in the taxi on the way back to my parents’. I placed him on his mattress next to Peanut who had returned from school earlier and was taking her nap. That was when my mother told me that after the incident, Peanut had told her that she was minding her own business when Lion fell and cut his forehead. In the morning when she got up and realized that Lion was not at the breakfast table as he was in hospital, she turned pale and silent. She barely ate any breakfast and went off to school in a daze. When she returned home from school, she burst into tears and confessed to my mother that she was chasing Lion around when the incident happened.

scar face!

scar face!

We didn’t yell at them because the guilt on their little faces seemed like punishment enough. I was hoping that both of them would learn something from this incident but two days after, they are back bouncing around without any sense of danger again.

Oh well.

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I ask myself a lot whether I am a good mother.

I don’t really like to clean and don’t clean all that much.
I don’t stay at home all day with the children and pander to their every need.
Sometimes I don’t answer their questions and tell them to be quiet because I have a headache.
Sometimes I troll them for fun.
And I talk about my work more than I talk about my kids really.
Sometimes I also wished they would go to bed earlier so that I can so stuff I like to do.

Then I find these notes in my handbag at work:

image

…and think maybe, just maybe, in spite of all of my shortcomings I might be actually doing something right.

Heh.

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Commando left our employment on Tuesday. Trainee J left for her month-long holiday before her call this morning. As such, we have been drinking non-stop since last Friday.

I came into work today and sat at my desk, inundated with files.

I miss them horribly already.

*

It so transpired that Commando will be leaving for a holiday on Friday. This will be the first time in his life he is travelling alone.

When we were drinking together on Tuesday evening, he told us that his mother doesn’t know about him going on a holiday alone yet.

Say what?!

Apparently when he told his mother that he quit his job, his mother gave him such an earful that he could not tell her then that he was going to fly off to some strange country alone. Then he left it and now plans to call her from the airport.

Oooookkkaaayyy…

After drinks, we parted at the bottom of our office block with tips on picking up chicks in bars and all of our well wishes.

May you find true love and happiness.

*

My son went on an excursion yesterday to Sentosa with his classmates and I made him wear a pair of sandals instead of shoes to school.

At 8:45am, while I was standing in the train on my way to work, I received an irate phone call from The Other Half telling me that my son refused to go into school because he didn’t want the sandals and wanted the shoes instead. According to Lion, My friends will laugh at me!

When you come home tonight, can you please talk to your son to sort out his problems?!? exclaimed The Other Half.

I was mildly amused by that exclamation. Then I remembered Commando and his inability to tell his mother that he was leaving for a holiday alone.

It’s really difficult, don’t you think? Your husband expects you to conduct these pep talks with your son. Then your son grows up to be so scared of your pep talks that he can’t tell you where he is going.

*

I didn’t have that pep talk with Lion in the end. The Other Half managed to shove him through the school gate after about 20 minutes. He went on the excursion with his friends after all and had so much fun that he lost his voice and spent the evening with nary a peep.

When I got home, his father and him were crowded round his father’s Note 2 playing Plants vs Zombies 2 together like they are the best of friends.

Boys. I don’t think I will ever figure them out.

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Peanut trying to catch the rotating seafood on the mobile

Peanut trying to catch the rotating seafood on the mobile

I recently purchased a copy of the complete Chopin Nocturnes as played by Vladimir Ashkenazy from Amazon and it arrived in the mail yesterday afternoon.

I haven’t had time to listen to it till this morning [after both Trainee J and Champagne Truffle had both had a go at it] and I was a little surprised to find that the tune which the baby mobile we hung over our baby cot played is the opening bars of Nocturne in F# minor!

I used to put on the mobile for Peanut after her showers in the mornings while I was still alone at home before my parents came over to cook lunch for me in that first month after the birth. Then later on, I put the mobile on at night for fussy Lion for the night light and hoping that the music will soothe him [this was before I found out that he could only fall asleep on his tummy].

The song brought back really great memories of the kids, how they have grown, and oh how I miss them as babies!

Sigh.

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From Terry Pratchett’s Raising Steam:

Something struck in Moist’s head, causing him to say, “May I ask, Missus Bradshaw, if your handwriting is good?”

She looked down her nose at him and said, “Indeed yes, Mister Lipwig. I used to write a beautiful cursive script for my dear late husband. He was a lawyer and they expect excellence in the writing and use of the language. Mister Slant was always very…particular about that, and no one appreciated the judicious use of Latatian better than dear Archibald did.

“And, may I add, I was schooled at the Quirm College for Young Ladies, where they are very solid on the teaching of foreign tongues, even though Morpokian rather seems to have become the lingua quirma of late.” Mrs. Bradshaw sniffed. “And in working for my husband I learned a lot about people and the human condition.”

I do agree that working in law teaches you, among other things, an awful lot about the human condition. There is nothing quite like standing aside and watching people argue about stuff, or listening to try to understand what people argue about, how people argue, why relationships break down.

All of that makes me quite introspective about life in general, and very circumspect about the things in life that one should or should not worry about.

So I spend a fair bit of time trying to convince my children that whatever they are fighting about is just sometimes simply not worth their effort. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Pick your fights wisely.

*

The Buddha: What are you doing?
Me: I am soaking out Sentosa Tranquility ink out of my fountain pen.
He: Wasn’t that what you’ve been doing for some weeks now?
Me: Nope. Last week I was soaking out purple. Different ink. Different pen. Different day.
He: It seems like you are forever washing out ink from somewhere. I think you are a bit obsessive about this. Maybe if you just use a normal pen…
Me: That’s like saying “Maybe if you just drive a normal Toyota Corolla…”
He: Good point.

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image

A couple of nights ago, my daughter took out this animal chess set and insisted that her brother played animal chess with her.

I had explained the rules to her some time ago and ascertained that she was still a little bit too young to figure out how to play animal chess competently so we just placed the set in the drawer and forgot about it.

Now, her game with Lion was very short-lived because Lion wanted to “eat” her rat and she tossed it into the “River” to stop him from doing so. He said, “I don’t want to play with you anymore!” and walked away to do something else.

So she started pouting and complaining about how no one wanted to play animal chess with her. Then she asked me.

I could see a disaster in the horizon and told her that I refused to play with her because if I won, she’d get upset with me.

In the end, she managed to get her father to play with her. Predictably, she lost.

Now this is where it started to go downhill.

She moaned and cried and accused him of cheating, to the point where I had to take her away and had a quiet word with her about being a sore loser and how it is unkind to label someone a cheat just because you are not good enough to beat him. I did manage to calm her down and get her to figure out that to beat Daddy she just needs to practice to try to get better at animal chess.
 
A few people I spoke with about the incident thereafter told me that we should let her win the game because she is just a kid and it would avoid all of the temper tantrums.

But then again, no one will let her win any games in real life, right? Personally, I suck at chess in general so I am in no position to teach her how to do it better. What I figured is that I do need to teach the kiddies how to be better losers. I just haven’t figured out how.

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